


I'm Heartless, Heartless, I Swear It On My Mother's Grave.

by im_ashamed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Mourning, nathalie pov, self reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_ashamed/pseuds/im_ashamed
Summary: Natalie isn’t sure how to feel about the people she now works for. She’s afraid she already feels far too much.(Drabble about Natalie coming to work for the Agrestes after Ms. Agreste’s death).





	I'm Heartless, Heartless, I Swear It On My Mother's Grave.

You believe in your boyfriend’s music career.

Said career finally takes off.

You quit your job and cut your hair. You even get a red streak in it because sitting safely at the hairdressers you feel wild and dangerous.

Your boyfriend breaks up with you because he needs ~~groupie poon~~ space.

You take the first job you find, some nanny gig sloppily written up on craigslist, with a weird line about having a nice smile that bothers you until you find yourself signing four non-disclosure agreements.

Natalie Sancoeur had been Adrien’s homeschool teacher and Mr. Agreste’s schedule keeper for a week and she had already learned far too much about them. The huge shadowy portrait in the front hall of Agreste and Adrien in mourning clothes should have been a tip-off,  but Natalie merely found it gauche and affected until she discovered all the old portraits in a dusty closet near the back door to the garage. By then she was relived that the paintings were a normal thing for them and not some bizarre desire to scream: WE’RE IN MOURNING. 

Still, the portrait was as impersonal as the composition was poor. It was the little things that they wanted no one to see that sent guilt and pity scurrying through Natalie’s chest. Adrien’s three day old underwear tossed over the handrail of his room’s staircase, the half hour Mr Agreste would spend in his office before sending for hot tea, complaining of a sore throat when anyone with a half a brain knew he had been crying, the way the two of them never spoke during meals. Natalie wasn’t sure if that was their M.O. or if they were too choked with memories to find words for them. She would have understood the latter, but both were equally sad and revealing.

Natalie tried not to think about her ex. She had spent two years with him, and the memories piled up. Cuddling and laughing, screaming and throwing things down stairs, the awful make up songs she desperately wanted to know if he was playing on tour. She tried to shake these thoughts, but there was a surprising amount of time to think on this job. Mrs. Agreste had over a years worth of Adrien’s lessons at least roughly planned, and since Mr. Agreste was so rich Natalie could often chose the laziest option for what he ordered her to do. Her first day on the job she knew a maid was needed, so she called one, put them on a weekly appointment, and then, after charging it to the family account, mentioned it to Mr. Agreste. 

“Whatever you think is best.” He said, without looking up from his drawing table. 

“Also, I moved some appointments around for tomorrow. I decided that Mr. Belling could wait another day.”

Agreste’s head jerked up. “But Mr. Jagged Stone can’t?” He said the name with undisguised disgust.

Natalie nodded. “He’ll be back on tour soon. Mr. Belling, however, will be in Paris till at least the end of the month.”

Mr. Agreste leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples for a moment. “You are remarkably good for a woman who responded to that dreadful advertisement.”

While Natalie was breaking that sentence down to figure out if it was a compliment or an insult, he continued, 

“I wrote that when I was somewhat, ah, incapacitated. I probably would have deleted it in the the morning, but then you responded, and I liked your query letter…” He made a strange little noise, a soft grunt, and scrubbed his hand over his face.

Before this job Natalie had only ever seen the occasional picture of Mr. Agreste in fashion magazines—well, in truth Natalie never perused anything as highbrow as _Vouge_. She saw him in adverts in _Cosmo_ or _Glamour_ back when he had a fragrance line. He had been a bit younger then, or at least photoshopped into youngness. She had like the composition of one and cut it out to hang over her a desk she had three jobs ago. It was Mr. Agreste, standing tall, smiling slightly, while a sparkling wave of windex blue water crashed into him. He looked strong and capable, but just a little playful. As though after being utterly soaked he would still be able to tease the lady who handed him a towel.

Natalie had enjoyed those idle daydreams, those falsely blue waters. She had had no interest in seeing Mr. Agreste so tired even the dark crescents beneath his eyes weighed him down. She had no desire to hear his footsteps pacing above her bed at an hour when any healthy person would be asleep. She did not want to compare their pains, picking apart her break up, her anger, her right to be angry, her dashed hopes, the way her boyfriend’s ass looked the last time she saw it, walking out of the apartment she could no longer afford. She turned these thoughts over in her mind and tried to weigh her heart ache against the crushing weight that had taken up residence in the both Agreste’s chests.

Natalie had never had a job she cared about. She had never cared about much. She voted, and she gave a little money away when she got a raise, and went to church as much as was acceptable, but she had yet to find a cause to fight for, a charity that her heart went out to, a passion that made everything worth it. 

And she had liked her life like that. Or at least she remembered liking it. That life had never woken her in the middle of the night, a nameless fear seizing her chest that sent her dashing up the stairs to Adrien’s bedroom. 

She stood in front of his door for a moment, her legs shaking, her body cold and sweaty beneath her clothes. She felt foolish, but she was so scared. Something with sharp nails was crawling up her back, whispering that Adrien was dead, that he threw himself over his little balcony, or out one of his impossibly huge windows, most of which actually opened, like a suicidal architect’s idea of french doors.

She opened the door and peered in. Of course the kid would have a huge-ass room where his bed was not visible from the doorway. Natalie seethed for a second at the fucking apartment this kid had while she had often gone without bed frames, for chrissake.

“Hello?” Adrien said from somewhere further in. 

Natalie opened her mouth to assure him it was just her, when he said in a very small voice, 

“Mom?”

Natalie’s face crumpled. The tears hit her in a wave. They were not crystal clear blue, but the stinging gray of running mascara. 

“Ms. Sancoeur?”

Adrien was in front of her now. Natalie had been very surprised that he was the same Adrien she had seen on the covers of all those teen girl magazines. He was as awkward and wobbly as any teenage boy she had ever known, and standing before her in a faded t-shirt and boxers with dinosaurs on them he seemed too young to be even that.

“I’m sorry.” Natalie whispered. “I was just-“ She coughed and managed to swallow her tears. She straightened and tried to pretend it was the middle of the day. “I apologize. I was, dreaming, or something, and I-“

“Would you like a hug, Ms. Sancoeur?”

“I would.” She said, as much because she wanted to hold him as she wanted to be held. She had to crouch a little, but it was a nice hug. Bony, but warm. She squeezed him tight. If she was going to get fired for this she might as well do it properly.

Adrien began crying, little snuffles into her neck, causing tears to start rolling down her cheeks again as well. 

“Oh, it’s alright,” She said, though neither of them could take comfort in the words. Something about going through the motions was still soothing. “It will be alright.”

Once they had both stopped shaking, though their tears kept flowing, Natalie stood and smoothed out her t-shirt. 

“Ms. Sancoeur?” Adrien whispered.

“Yes?”

“One time mom and dad were fighting, and she said that if you waited long enough all bad things turn into good things. Is that-“ His voice caught for a moment, “Is that true?”

Natalie considered her words. “I think so. Sometimes it does happen that something very bad happens, but later you find yourself thinking, well, if that hadn’t happened then I wouldn’t have done that other thing-“ A laugh escaped her, “Which was also bad. But then that caused a really good thing to happen. So I think your mother is right, if you give it enough time. Eventually something that seems like the end of the world…It can turn out alright.”

Adrien nodded and gave her a watery little smile. “Good night, Ms. Sancouer.”

“Good night, Adrien.”

You go back to your room.

You sit on your rickety bed and cry a little more, because in the dark of night you feel so small.

You lie back and pull up the covers and wonder when you began to care so much. 

You try to convenience yourself it is completely selfish. You miss your stupid boyfriend and just want some comfort, to the point that you are willing to wring it from a child.

You hate yourself. 

You dream of tropical waters, clear and warm as a bath, and a woman with a smile like the sun coming out, green eyes that glint with laughter, and in your heart of heartlessness you wish you could share this with Adrien.

 


End file.
